


Not Again

by MsAquaMarvella



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bruce dealing death, Bruce dealing with trauma, Death, Flashbacks, Gen, Guns, I'm a beginner with writing stories, Kinda, Mainly Bruce with some mentions of the Batkids, Not A Happy Ending, Or should I say not dealing with it at all, Sadness, bruce's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 01:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsAquaMarvella/pseuds/MsAquaMarvella
Summary: This wasn't supposed to happen. Not again. Never again. And yet, here he was.In a dark alley, with the smell of copper burning his nostrils, and two warm bodies next him.





	Not Again

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not very good at creative writing, but I've had so many good plot bunnies that I've just gotta get over it and start writing! After all, I'll get better with practice! So, it you have any comments on how to get better, I'd love to hear them! Or if there are any grammar mistake for this is un-betaed (un-beta?).

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not again. Never again. And yet, here he was.

In a dark alley, with the smell of copper burning his nostrils, and two warm bodies next him. He knows he should be doing something, but for the life of him, he can’t remember. All he sees is red, red and pearls. Except, there’s no pearls this time. He’s starting to lose it. He can tell. The lines between the flashbacks and the present are becoming more and more blurred.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not again.

He was Batman. He had trained himself to intellectual and physical perfection. In his youth, he sought out only the best universities and scholars, attending at Cambridge, the Sorbonne, and more. He received physical training from several masters and styles. He was taught hunting under the African Bushman, man-hunting under Frenchman Henri Ducard, hand-to-hand combat under Ted Grant, and David Cain, stealth and reconnaissance under the Japanese ninja Kirigi, and other certified shinobi, he was trained by Detective Harvey Harris to improve his detective skills. But he wasn’t Batman, at least not when it happened. He had foolishly allowed himself to go as weak, vulnerable, gullible Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne, who had foolishly thought history would not repeat itself and grew a new family. Bruce Wayne, who thought the universe wasn’t cruel enough to take floor out from underneath him again. Bruce Wayne, who thought he would be able to stop it.

It was funny, wasn’t it. It must be some universal joke that he just couldn’t understand. Because, it wasn’t supposed to happen. Not again.

He had sworn an oath to rid his city of the evil that had so cruelly taken his parents from him. So, that no child would ever have to see the life drain out of their parent’s eyes. He had thought that he had upheld that promise. But he truly hadn’t, had he? Dick Grayson, age 8, had watched his parents fall, Jason Todd, age 10, had watched his mother overdose, Timothy Drake, age 15, had watched his mother be poisoned, and his father be murdered. No, he had not upheld his promise. He realizes that now. 

This is his punishment. How could it not be? He had selfishly allowed others to lose their loved ones, while he grew a new family.

But that wasn’t completely true either. They weren’t the perfect little family of misfits, were they. No, they fought, argued, yelled, pushed, leaned on each other, laughed, smiled…loved. He was doing it again. Selfishly blaming others, the universe, when it was he who was to blame. He had done nothing when a common thug had held a gun up to his parents. All he did was stand here, frozen in fear with the foolish hope that his father would handle it, and that his mother would protect him. And he had just stood there, as they were shot. He just stood there, as the thug ran away. And this time was no different.

They had gone out as a family. With no capes, masks, or weapons. Just his little family of misfits. The circus child, who couldn’t stand still and loved to perform, the street urchin, who had a bigger heart then he let himself believe, the self-made genius, who just wanted to please others, the silent assassin, who had been through so much, but still had the biggest smile, and the little angry boy, who had so much love but didn’t know how to act on it. They had gone to see a movie premiere, of what he couldn’t remember. He was just shocked that they all had agreed. He was shocked that he had agreed was well. Perhaps, it was the butler who did it. The butler always did it.  
The event was wonderful, just as before. And like before, they left the theater together; however, this is where things begin to changed. Cassandra and Tim had made some bet and ran ahead. As they disappeared, Damian became fidgety. But before he could say anything, Dick whispered something in his ear, and his little boy’s eyes grew wide before hiding it with a dull look while muttering a soft “tt”. And in the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving just Jason, Dick, and himself. The conversation between the three was light and filled with teasing, must to his great relief. They were about two minutes away from where Alfred had parked, as they walked with a small crowd. When suddenly, the power to the block was shut off, leaving the crowd shrouded in shadows, but not completely. For the block, ahead and behind, were still lit, creating an ‘alley-like’ lighting. Perhaps that was why he froze, when several men armed with pistols surrounded the crowd. It was as if, all of his thoughts became mush, and language became gibberish, except for gunman’s words.

“Stick ‘em up! Wallets and jewelry! Now!”

He just stood there. He just couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He could only see the gun. He could only hear the man’s words. 

“Hey! That means you too big shot!”

He felt an elbow softly poke his ribs. He looked over to see Dick’s soft but firm eyes pleading with him to do something. To do what, he wasn’t sure. The gunman became more and more agitated with his lack of compliance, when he felt two sets of hands grab his wrists and stick them high in the air.

“Alright, calm down. Look they’re up, see? No need to get all shooty.” 

Someone spoke, but he couldn’t be certain who had. The gun was shaking in the man’s hands. He was getting ready to do something; however, Bruce wasn’t sure what. He felt like he should know. That he had prepared for this moment. But he didn’t. The longer he stared, shaker the gunman’s hands were, and the more he was certain there were two pairs of eyes watching him. Waiting for him to do…something. However, once again, when he looked into his boys’ eyes, the silent language they had spoken for years, was just random gestures. 

“I said wallets!”

“Well, what do you want? Our hands up or our wallets? Seriously, make up your-” BANG!

“JASON! BRUCE MO-” BANG!

 

 

Not again…please not again. He’s not sure when he closed his eyes or when he fell to the ground. But he knows he did. He knows sickening smell of blood, and that he’s covered in something wet, warm, and sticky.

Not again…

Please…not again…

“Jason. Dick.” He calls out, but there’s no response, only a ringing sound in his ears. He knows what happened. But, he can open his eyes. So, he sits there and waits. And waits. And waits. 

He only opens his eyes, when he feels someone violently shaking him. He opens his eyes and sees a world devoid of all color, except for red. There’s so much red. Someone shakes him, and this time he looks up. He sees Cass’ wide sad eyes trained on him. As if, they were pleading with him.

And it’s only when he hears Damian’s screams that the sounds of the chaos around him become clear. There’s too much noise, too many screams, sirens, cries. It’s all too much. And then, he makes the mistake of looking pass Cass. He sees Tim mumbling to himself as he shakes Jason, and then moves to Dick over and over, constantly switching between the two. And Damian crying on top Dick.

And it hits him. They’re gone. Jason and Dick are gone. It’s all his fault. They looked to him for direction and he failed them. They’re gone. They’re dead. They’re dead. They’re dead. Dead, Dead, Dead.

He sees Cass catch him. He sees her retrying to talk to him. But the edges of his vison are closing around him. And he’s tired. He’s so tried. He’s fought for so long, and lost so much. He can’t, he can’t do it anymore.

He stops fighting the darkness around him, and let’s go.

He lets go, with his last looks a upon his beautiful children, Cass, Tim and Damian. Knowing that they’ll be better off without him.

And, he falls.


End file.
